Music itself is going to become like running water or

The prophet of sound and change, David Bowie, once declared: “Music itself is going to become like running water or electricity. So it's like, just take advantage of these last few years because none of this is ever going to happen again. You'd better be prepared for doing a lot of touring because that's really the only unique situation that's going to be left.” In these words, Bowie, ever the visionary, foresaw the transformation of music from sacred scarcity to universal abundance. Where once songs were rare treasures pressed in vinyl, sold in stores, and held like relics, he foresaw an age where music would flow freely, invisible yet omnipresent, like water and electricity.

The ancients would have likened this to the shifting of epochs, as when the oral traditions gave way to the written word. Just as the printing press once turned precious manuscripts into common books, so too did Bowie foresee technology dissolving the barriers between artist and listener. He knew that in such an age, the value of recorded music would no longer be its rarity, but its ubiquity. And when all the world could drink from the same fountain of sound, the question would not be “How do we own it?” but “How do we experience it?”

Consider the story of Johannes Gutenberg, whose press flooded Europe with books. Before him, the written word was the treasure of kings and monasteries; after him, it became the inheritance of the common man. The power of ideas was no longer locked away but was set free. Bowie saw that music, too, would undergo the same revolution. Once guarded by record shops and labels, it would become endless, flowing through wires, signals, and networks until it reached every ear. Like the book before it, music would cease to be scarce and become boundless.

Yet Bowie also warned: “Take advantage of these last few years because none of this is ever going to happen again.” He was speaking to the artists who had known the old ways, who had tasted the golden age of selling records as if they were gold itself. That era, he knew, was dying. No longer could the artist rely upon the artifact of the album for livelihood. Instead, they must turn to the one thing that technology could not replicate: the living experience, the presence of the artist and the audience together in the sacred ritual of performance.

This is why he declared that the future of touring would become essential. In a world where the song is everywhere and costs nothing, the true value lies in what cannot be copied: the sweat on the stage, the roar of the crowd, the electricity of presence. As in the days of the bard, when people gathered to hear the voice of the poet with their own ears, so too must the modern artist return to the ancient power of shared experience. The future of music, Bowie foresaw, would belong not to possession, but to participation.

The lesson here is profound. In every era, what was once rare becomes common, and what was once common becomes rare. Wealth shifts, power shifts, value shifts. Bowie teaches us that the wise do not cling to the past, but prepare for the future. When the nature of art, work, or life changes, one must not weep for what has ended but adapt, seeking what new uniqueness can be created. For only those who adapt survive the changing of ages.

For us, the practical action is this: do not cling only to what once worked, but prepare for what will matter tomorrow. In your own craft, seek what cannot be replicated by machines, what cannot be diluted by abundance. Bring forth your presence, your authenticity, your living spirit. For just as Bowie foresaw, when everything else becomes as common as water or electricity, what will endure is the human touch—the gathering, the performance, the story told in real time.

Thus, let David Bowie’s words be remembered as both prophecy and command: music will flow like water, but the living presence of the artist will remain the wellspring of uniqueness. Embrace change, prepare for what is coming, and give yourself fully to the moments that cannot be copied. For though the world changes, the power of human presence—the power to create connection—remains eternal.